Instinct
by Lexion Kidd
Summary: Instinct. It's a strange thing, sometimes right and sometimes wrong, but always there. As Samuel Kyle is about to find out, it can be a huge help...or a huge pitfall. Hopefully, he can learn to hone it. As he and the Young Justice gang are about to find out, Instinct is something you do or don't have...and Kyle, or Rogue, has it. A series of ones-shots including a LOT of OC's.
1. Chapter 1

DC owns everything but Rogue. He's mine.

_This means Flashback_

'This means someone is thinking'

How had this happened? Her life had changed forever when she took him in. And she thought it had been for the better too. A life as one of the greatest thieves in Gotham with her son and side-kick. But oh how that changed when Batman and Nightwing showed up with that offer.

"_You can't keep him in this life Selina. It will ruin him, and I know you don't want that for him. You've seen what the streets do to people." Batman tried to reason with her. Knowing he wasn't going to change her mind, he addressed her protégé. "What do you want Rogue?"_

Selina stared at the window and thought about when she first met Rogue. The enigmatic 14-year old had stolen her heart when he first looked at her seven years before.

"_Ugh!" Catwoman put everything she had into flipping the goon over her back. These guys were getting harder to put down time after time. She almost considered just ditching the jewel she was attempting to steal, but then again she did love a good challenge. She ducked under the next man's jab and brought her palm up and into the man's ribs before spinning behind him and drop kicking the guy. As she turned, a pair of arms wrapped around her arms and lifted her up while another man shot a hook to her jaw followed quickly by a jab to the nose and a strong uppercut to the stomach. Catwoman went limp and slipped a little, allowing her to kick the guy hitting her in the chest knocking him back, while slipping a needle out of her sleeve and jamming it into the man holding her. The guy let out a grunt of pain and loosened his hold, but it took a few more needles and a stomp on his ankle to get him to let go. Stepping forward, Catwoman swung from the hip and slapped the man's ear before using her palm to hit the guy in the stomach. Elbowing the guard in the nose, she side stepped to the left and slipped out another needle and jammed it into the man's thigh sending him stumbling towards the window. Jumping up, Catwoman kicked with both legs, hitting the man in the side, effectively sending him crashing into the pillar at the entrance. Smirking at her victory, Selina started walking towards the other door, only to hear a whimper. Craning her head around to hear, she listened for it again, but heard nothing. Shrugging, she continued walking to the safe when she heard it again. This time though, she heard it come from a door that led to the balcony. Approaching it slowly, she opened the door and saw a foot. Opening it wider she saw a small boy curled up in the far corner of the balcony. He looked up, and those eyes sent a shiver down Catwoman's spine. And she thought 'Why not take him home? He obviously needs some medical care, and he looks like he's freezing.' But why should she? It's not like she LIKES kids anyways, right?_

Okay, she admits it. Her one primary weak spot is kids. It's not like she _wanted_ it to happen. And she totally didn't plan on it. But still, Selina does have a soft spot. Just a little one…

"_Hey, it's alright. I'm friendly." Catwoman cooed to the boy cowering in the corner." It's not like I bite."_

"_I..I..I'm not worried about that." The boy somehow stuttered out the words intelligibly. It looked like his jaw was dislocated, if not broken, and he had a few other scars on his bare chest and a few other fresh cuts on his arms. His shaggy black hair seriously needed to be cut, and he needed to put on a coat or a blanket or SOMETHING before he caught cold. The middle of November in Gotham was not a good time to be running around shirtless._

"_Hey, tell you what. How about you let me take you to my place and I fix you up, okay? Put a couple of Band –Aids on those cuts on your arms. You can drink some coffee, and get warmed up. It'll be fine."_

_The kid still looked wary, but he made an effort to stand. It was visibly painful, and he slumped back down to the ground. Selina stepped forward to help him up when he growled. Literally growled, like an animal, deep and from his throat. She hesitated, and before she could do anything else he fixed his eyes on her. She couldn't see the color very well, but they were a dark color, grey or brown probably. They looked almost feral, and very dangerous. Catwoman stepped back away from the child and allowed him to try again. This time, he succeeded._

Yeah, right. A small soft spot. That's why after one night on the couch, she couldn't let him go. And she soon found out that this kid had frequent…mood swings. Bubbly and happy one second, moody and brooding the next. Sweet and caring, vicious and selfish, pitiful and helpless, angry and defiant. Like an erratic clock, every time an hour struck he switched character. Who was the real Rogue?

Sorry if Catwoman is OOC, I don't know that much about her. I'll probably be more accurate in later stuff.


	2. Therapy and Red

DC owns everything but Rogue and this Superboy (Lance Farris.)

"So, you asked for this session. I assumed since you requested it you would like to start it off." Black Canary leaned back in her chair, subconsciously relaxing to the sound of the water falling in the background. Focusing on the teenager in the chair across from her, noting the slightly dejected look and struggle going on underneath the squared jaw and blue eyes, Dinah Laurel Lance hoped she would actually get somewhere with this therapy session. Up until now, the latest Superboy had proven to be just as difficult as the original, if not more so. He had obviously learned how to evade and twist questions and observations somewhere, but not many knew where he had picked up all he knew. He was a mystery, and even Batman was frustrated on how little they had on him. Maybe today would change that, but Dinah didn't count on it. Lance might have just asked for a session to aggravate her even more than he had already done. He was beginning to be a pain in the ass, and he knew it.

"Actually yes, I would like to start. But I have a question I'd like to ask first, do you have any news on the Rogue or his friends? I know it's a League priority, but he's made it personal."

"Well, no. We haven't found anything out about him yet, but I suspect Batman knows something. But this is a good start, how did he make it personal? You seem worried about it."

"He didn't even recognize the fact that I'm not the original Superboy. It's bad enough what with my teammates calling me 'Conner' all the time, but when the crooks do it too? That's a little too far." Lance's features suddenly took on more of an angry expression. "I mean, it's like I'm not even my own person. I can't do anything I want to do without everybody looking at me weird. Just yesterday Robin, Bart and Jaime were going bowling, and I asked if I could go too. They looked like I had just asked if I could blow up the moon. Apparently, Conner didn't like bowling. I used to actually be somebody, but now all I do is go on missions, go to school, and stay in my room and do nothing. It's like I can't even get myself back in the privacy of my own room! I thought I could live with it at first, but I thought it would only be short term. You know, once it sunk in that I wasn't Conner. I never even met the guy, and I'm not even related to the Super family at all! I just look like Superman and got injected with some kind of Kryptonite juice that stuck. If this is what it's like to be a hero, I don't want it."

Dinah leaned forward and thought about what she had just heard while studying the kid in front of her. Slim, not the typical build for a Super family member, he looked more like a speedster than a Superboy. But other than that, and the fact that he's shorter than the original, he looked just like Conner. And Clark for that matter, but like he said, they weren't even related. This was more progress than they had made since he joined the team. Lance had slouched back in his chair with that last statement, and started looking at the floor like he was about to burn into it, when he suddenly sat up and opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, but then closed it and frowned.

"What is it? I'm here to listen and to offer advice. You can say whatever you want and I'll listen."

"No, it's okay. I'll figure it out." And with that, Lance stood up and walked towards the door. "Thanks for making the time for this session, and sorry it was a waste of time. See ya later, I guess." And with that he just left, and the hardened kid was back.

Metropolis, 18:48 CST

July 27, 2018

Superboy leaned against the lightning rod, waiting for someone to show up. They always did, and they never lost. Time after time, they would come and fight him, beat him, and tell him that they shouldn't have been able to, that he needed more training, that they could offer that. And he always told them no, that he was a hero, not a villain, that he wouldn't turn against his mentor, wouldn't dishonor his shield. But now, he wondered. Was he really a hero? A hero fought to protect and guard the people who couldn't do it themselves. He did that, so why didn't he feel like a hero? Every time he fought these guys, he didn't see a malicious intent, or a will to kill. In fact, he hadn't even seen any of the things that the League said they had done. He had merely chased them down and lost to them because he had been told to. He was soldier, not a general, and he didn't need to know what he didn't need to know. It was a simple as that, or so he had thought. Every time he fought them, he felt like it was merely a spar, no intent to actually hurt the other, like what friends did. Or what he assumed friends did. He'd been with the team for a year and a half now, and everybody still avoided him. A year and a half of fading into the Superboy that was, except a much darker one. He felt, hatred and anger, all the time without fail. He was never himself anymore.

"I can hear you over there. Under the roof overhang." Lance shifted his focus over to the spot that he described, watching a nimble man in a black suit with grey and a white skull mask with a red x across it swing up onto the roof with him.

"And I can hear you thinking. Seriously, your thoughts are deafening."

"You're a telepath? And I've never seen you before. You another one of Rogues friends?"

"No, I am not a telepath, and no not really a friend. However, I did decide to do him a favor and get you to join him. He can help you know. He understands you."

"Then why hasn't he showed up yet? If he really understood me, he would realize that I would want a face to face discussion. Now I suppose you're here to beat the crap out of me? That's what everyone else has done."

"Well, people tend to believe that Kryptonians are extremely hard headed, and the only way to convince them is to beat it into their skull. But you are more human than Kryptonian, so that doesn't really work does it?" Red X went and stood next to Superboy, leaning against the other side of the rod. "So, I'm here to talk. What do you want to talk about? The weather? Girlfriends? Combat moves? I'm open to anything."

"Not in the mood. How about you just leave?"

"So you can pout in silence? No way dude. You need a pick me upper, and I have no idea what you want to do, we can either sit here in silence, or we can talk until we figure out something to do."

"Well….." Superboy hesitated slightly. "Okay, I've always kind of wanted to go bowling?"

"Well then, you asked the right guy to go with then. There's a bowling alley down on eighth that's pretty good. Meet ya there in about ten minutes? Unlike you, I can't just go bowling in as Red X. That's my name by the way, but just call me Red. It's easy to remember and can be an actual name, so just call me that."

"Okay then, I guess I'll meet you there then. I'll be out front."

"O-kep, dude. I'll be there!" And with that and a wave, Red X flipped off the roof and disappeared.

Superboy stared at where X had just disappeared then smiled and flew off in the opposite direction. "Maybe I actually will have someone to call a friend."

Awwww, new Superboy just wants a friend. I know, I kinda turned Superboy into a sap, but I don't care. Deal with it.


	3. Negative Portal

I don't think I own anything in DC, but Samuel and Ryan are mine.

Bludhaven

3-17-2017

9:57 P.M. CST

When you're super-powered and seventeen, getting drunk isn't exactly the best idea. That's why, since he's a Negative, he can't get drunk. Well, supposedly that is, since he appears to be swaying and muttering these things. Ryan Porter was never one to really just run into a situation blind, but this one was tempting. A tall Caucasian, dark black hair and furrowed eyebrows, triangular chin and lithe body dressed in black jeans and a grey sports jacket and a grey t shirt had just walked through the door just off of the bar, and he looked like he could floor a Belle Reve inmate with a look. A small yet visible scar extended from behind his ear to mid cheek. Ryan looked the man over discreetly, only to realize that he too was being checked out. Smiling, he turned towards the man and raised his drink towards him, nodding as he did so. Nodding back, the man turned towards the bar and opened his mouth, but Ryan cut him off.

"Just get him whatever I have. And put it on me." The man across the bar looked between the customer in black and gray and the one sitting straight across from him. Due to receiving a glare from Ryan, he poured the drink into a glass and put in front of the black and gray man.

Samuel's POV

Taking the drink I nodded to the bartender and turned to the only other customer here. He had turned back to his drink, staring at it through the dark brown colored glass. From the side he looked rather young, but I had learned to not judge on appearances. The Bat was a harsh teacher, and he had a lot of experience with observation of people. 'He should write a book about it.' I mused. After all, who better to teach others about observing and detection skills than the world's greatest detective?

"Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to drink? Cause if you're not, I will. I did pay for it after all." The kid at the bar spoke in a smooth monotone, almost lyrical if not for the lack of, well, anything his voice. He had no emotion, no inflection, no anything, but he conveyed so much sarcasm and mild annoyance in the statement.

"I didn't ask for you to." I was already irritated, I didn't need some big shot kid trying to pick a fight, but I wasn't going to back down. Not again.

A smile flitted across the kids face before he dead panned. "Then why'd you take it? If you don't want it just slide it over. Or are you too good to take an offered gift?" Again, that sarcasm and annoyance, but I hadn't even been in here five minutes, so what was he annoyed at? There hadn't been any annoyance in his voice when talking to the bartender, so he must be mad at me, but about what? Had we met before?

I just took a drink and voiced none of these questions. Just drink the 'offered gift' and get out of here before the kid gets hurt.

Glaring at the profile of the kid at the bar I set the empty glass down. "You're trying to get me to believe that you're actually a professional gambler who takes jobs as a hit man to help fund your gambling career? You are so drunk, aren't you?" I had spent a lot more time than I originally intended at this bar, talking to this jerk that didn't know when to shut his giant mouth.

"Yeah, it's not like I really expected you to believe me. Do I really look like a mercenary to you? But I did have you fooled there for a moment didn't I? You know, speaking about fooling-"

I had had enough. There is only so much talking I can take, and my patience had already run thin before I got here, and two hours of listening to that much nonsense, I lost it. Before he could blurt out another drunken tale, I just decide to take the easy way and hit him. So before he could react I grabbed the back of his head by the long dark brown hair and slammed it into the bar face first as hard as I could. Apparently though, that wasn't enough.

General POV

The moment that noir dude grabbed the back of his head, Ryan knew this could be one heck of a fight. When his head hit the bar, he knew it was going to be the easiest fight of his life. Too much power, no finesse, and he left himself completely open on his right side. Taking advantage of that, Ryan drove his knuckles straight into the guy's armpit, hitting it with enough force to dislocate it. After hearing it pop out of place he grabbed the glass that Samuel had just set down and smashed it into his nose. Samuel ignored the blood spilling out from what was likely a broken nose and the dislocated shoulder and swung a right hook at Ryan's face before stepping in and driving his left shoulder into the middle of his chest. Ryan ducked the left cross that followed the drive with the shoulder and slammed his elbow into Samuels kidney before straightening and grabbing his unhurt arm by the wrist and bringing it up and slamming his right fist into the shoulder with a chop. Hearing the bone snap, Ryan slid his left hand up and latched his hand onto Samuels chin, picked him up and slammed into the table next to him. Rolling to the left Samuel avoided the axe kick and used his right arm to strike at Ryan's knee, but over extended and spilled over the remains of the table. Expecting at any moment a kick to the ribs or to get picked up and thrown, Samuel waited. Rolling over and seeing no one but the bartender, Samuel wasn't sure if he should be thankful, or if he should curse himself for not finishing what he started. A motorcycle started up outside and Samuel lurched to a stand, head swimming and aching terribly. He stumbled to the door just in time to see Ryan turn to look at the door and do a mock salute. Then he took off, leaving Samuel without a way to leave, other than walking. Samuel smirked through his pain, because now, he was going to get revenge. No one stole Rogues motorcycle, for two very important reasons. One, he would find you and seriously make you wish you hadn't. And two, he always found you because of a tracker in the motorcycle. It was just a matter of time now…

Keystone City

3-28-2017

12:26 A.M. CST

Since about a week ago, Ryan Porter had had it pretty good. After leaving Bludhaven he had gone to Gotham, intent on stirring up trouble, but had run into the Bat and decided that the Joker truly was crazy if he thought he could beat him at anything. After trying to beat him in hand-to-hand (in which he failed miserably. He may be good, but he'd swear Batman was inhuman) he tried everything he could think of. He even challenged him to a game of tennis, but of course the Bat didn't show. No one was in trouble, so he didn't come. Deciding to leave well enough alone, Ryan had gone to Jump, looking for a certain protégé of a certain dark hero, but had found an interested third party intent on stalking him. Since he was pretty evenly matched with a certain punch line-of-pirate-themed-jokes thief, he had skipped town and gone to Keystone, where he was now facing off against another third party, though this one was a little more familiar. Rogue had found him, and had revealed himself only after a few minutes of fighting. Seriously, that kid had to learn how to fight before he got himself killed. The noir colored ex-hero had jumped him not twenty minutes after Ryan entered the city. Wearing a dark black jacket with several pockets and pouches inside and outside, a pair of black cargo pants with stone gray pockets and a stone gray shirt and utility belt, and a black helmet like mask with gray lines going through and around the eyes, he definitely looked like a noir character. Without the fedora and trench coat that is. After the initial attack, the fight had quickly spread further into the city and Rogue had thrown a lot of shuriken and knives at him, not to mention tranquilizer darts, and shot a butt load of arrows at him. Seriously, where did he keep all of this?

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of this Rogue. You were asking for it in the bar, you hit me first. I was just a better fighter than you and defended myself, that's all." Ryan desperately needed something to eat, and drink, and somewhere to crash, and for Rogue to just stop chasing him. But Rogue was intent on taking him out. Maybe he should escalate with him? Just as he thought this, Rogue tossed a few smoke pellets at Ryan, which he dodged, but couldn't outrun. Encased in smoke, Rogue had the upper hand and started landing well thrown and precise hits on Ryan. As Ryan fell to the ground, and Rogue prepared to deliver the final blow, Ryan disappeared. Rogue pulled out his sword and jumped out of the smoke screen, but when the smoke cleared, Ryan was nowhere to be found. Suddenly though, the sky darkened for second, and when Rogue looked up a figure dropped and landed right on top of him, knocking him to the ground. Rolling into a half kneeling half standing position, Rogue looked at the new person in front of him, analyzing him and guessing at what he wanted.

"Miss me?" A metallic kind of voice came from the helmet the guy was wearing. The helmet was a mix between blood and black-berry red, and it covered only from the nose down and the fore head. The long brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and the tip of it brushed against the gold handle of a sword strapped to the left side of his back. On the right side he carried another sword, although judging by the fact that its jet-black handle was twice as long as the other one, and its blade seemed to peek out on the other side, it would be a safe bet that it was a two handed long sword, while the other was a bastard sword. He had a cloak of the same color as the helmet that reached to right below his knees, and it looked like he had a hand-gun strapped to his left side, which would usually mean that there was another weapon on the right. A deep blue shirt of chain mail like material and a pair of black pants made of the same material completed his outfit. "No need to stare so hard. I know I am a dashing fellow, but it gets embarrassing after a while… well, for you it does at least." The voice still had a slight metallic ring to it, but it sounded more like Ryan's voice. Was that really Ryan?

"Interesting costume. A little on the un stealthy side though, don't you think?"

"Oh, right, and I'm supposed to take fashion tips from the Noir Hero?"

"Gray and black are excellent stealth colors, and coming from Gotham, it's practically symbolic."

"Sheesh, that glum pit sure did a number on ya. Now, before we continue this fight, may I have your name? It's nice to know the person that you've beaten into the ground before you do that, but your name will suffice."

"Hmmm, interesting that you are so sure you're going to win, but okay. My name is Rogue, and you won't soon forget it!"

"And my name is Portal, and you definitely won't forget it."

"Wait…. What's your name?"

"Portal. Got it memorized?" And with that, Portal drew his golden sword and charged at Rogue, while aforementioned ex-hero got into a protective stance, and stood to meet the rush head on.

And so concludes my third chapter of Instinct. I intend to write one more chapter of introduction of another character before the real story begins. I think I'm going to do it in three story arcs, every three stories is an episode kind of deal. Well, thanks for reading this far, and adios!


End file.
